Worth The Risk
by StillKooptUp
Summary: How much of themselves are they each really willing to risk? (thanks to Smittygirl for sharing her toys and Chaoskirin for the inspiration)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Trying and Failing

Arriving home from their latest gig, Mike, Peter and Shug began lugging in instruments. Micky and Davy were both sleeping over with "friends", so that left the three of them to trying to beat the storm that had been threatening since they left Pop's. Shug began organizing the bandstand, leaving Peter and Mike to carry in the last of the drums just as the downpour started.

"Dibs on the shower," Peter called out, bolting for the bathroom. Mike and Shug wore matching smirks, shaking their heads at what had become a standard Friday night routine for the three of them.

"I'll finish up here if you wanna go on and get your stuff ready to shower next," Mike offered, hanging his coat up on the rack then stepping up to place the drums in their place.

"Nah, I'll help yah finish up first," Shug answered, setting the cymbals up carefully. "It ain't like it's gonna take me but a minute to grab what I need. Sides, I kinda wanted to talk to you a minute about somethin'. "

Mike looked up from where he kneeled, setting the foot petal to Micky's bass drum, curiously. "What's up?"

"It's Pete," Shug began carefully, watching Mike's face closely for reactions as she continued. "I been thinkin'. I mean, I know he likes me. _Like _likes me."

Mike nodded slowly to show he was listening. "Right, well, all the kissin' ya done over the last year and a half, messin' round with my head, I'm pretty sure I caught that…" he nudged wryly when she failed to go on, receiving a scowl in return.

"I'm thinkin'," Shug went on, wrapping her long arms around herself much as Michael often did. "I…I don't wanna end up alone, Michael. I mean, I want a life where I can come home to someone at night who loves me. I want…well, hell, Michael, you know what I want. It ain't like this isn't something we think about every night. How tired we are of bein' lonely and how hard it is to meet people. You know we ain't never been good at that."

Mike listened closely as he stood, trying hard to see where this was going. He thought he knew, but there was one thing, one very important thing, she hadn't mentioned. "Okay, I get all that…" he answered, hoping she'd think about that one missing piece. "And you're thinkin'?"

"I'm thinkin', I know Pete. And he really likes me." Shug repeated, hoping Mike would put the pieces together for himself.

Mike frowned. He'd got that part, but that wasn't the one he was worried about. "And you're thinkin' you like him?" he finally asked.

Shug shrugged, pushing her raven locks out of her eyes and readjusting the green clip to keep it there. She'd turned the idea over in her mind numerous times over the last year and a half, and found that the idea of her and Pete just felt more and more right the more she considered it. The occasional electricity charged kisses that stole her breathe each time they occurred only seemed to cement that idea. Even so, she wasn't quite ready to say without a doubt that it was something more than just the loneliness she felt coloring their friendship, and so she answered, "I don't know if I do or not. I mean, I like him, but I don't know if I _like_ like him. Maybe? I just don't know. I'm thinkin' maybe I just need to try it on for size and see…"

"It ain't like shopping for a new dress, Shug." Mike interrupted, not pleased at finding his worries might be founded. "I mean, it ain't like you can just put him back if you don't like how he fits, no harm no foul here." He couldn't let anyone, not even her, toy with Peter's heart. He knew only too well the kind of lasting damage something like that could really do and he wasn't about to see it done to Pete.

"I didn't think it was, Michael." Shug replied, scowling. How could he suggest that to her? Her eyes narrowed angrily as she continued, her temper starting to roil deep in her chest, "I care about Pete, you know I do. He's been a good friend to me and…"

"Bein' a friend ain't the same as being someone you're interested in, Shug, and he ain't like the rest of us. He ain't just gonna pick himself up and brush himself off if you hurt him. He's sensitive," Michael was almost pleading with her now. "You can't toy with him and think he's gonna be…"

"Michael Nesmith, how dare you!" Shug exploded as her anger took the wheel and kicked her good sense into the backseat. "I ain't never toyed with anyone in our whole life, and I don't mean to start now. I can't stand here and swear I'm in love with him, but at least I aim to see if it can work. At least I ain't too chickenshit to risk myself again. I ain't Gail, dammit, and he ain't you, and maybe it's time you stop thinkin' every girl out there is gonna do what she did to you."

Mike's breath caught in his throat and Shug could see she'd struck a still raw and painful nerve. "I risk plenty," he said quietly, struggling to keep his own temper in check. "But we can't all go chasin' tail. Someone has to be responsible for things around here. Things like findin' work and payin' bills. Someone has to make sure we're really workin' as hard as we can and puttin' everything we got out there so we ain't missin' opportunities, but don't none o' that have anything to do with you an'..."

"Missin' opportunities! You're not standin' there with a straight face tellin' me about puttin' it all out there and taking every chance when you've got that whole damn drawer full of songs you ain't even shown the guys once, because they're all about her and how she hurt you and how scared you are of risking that again," Shug scoffed, determined not to let him backtrack and imply again that she might be toying with Peter's heart. "that was six damn years ago she hurt you and I can count on one hand how many times you've even honestly tried to talk to a girl since. You talk about Pete not bein' able to move on. Well, hell, Michael, how 'bout you?"

"They're not all about her, and they're not ready," Michael responded, his expression carefully neutral, though his eyes registered the hurt. "You know that. And I don't have time for skirt chasin'. I got things here to take care of and…."

"Bullshit. You got excuses, and that's all you got. Them are some of the best songs you ever wrote, and they're sitting there wasted cause you can't face 'em remindin' you of Gail and what she done, so you hide behind excuses and pretend you're doin' them all some big favor. That's a cop-out and you know it!" She could tell from the look in his dark eyes she'd struck another nerve, just like she knew she would. The thing about sharing all of his memories was that she knew full well the potholes in his own being that could be exploited. She also knew she should stop there before she said something she couldn't ever take back. She wanted to, she really did, but her temper had more control of her just then than her good sense and so she continued furiously, this time hitting below the belt, stressing hard his greatest fear as she did so. "Hell, its fine, if you're so determined to die a lonely old _failure_ living in a rundown beach house, Michael, but don't none of us plan on _failin'_ alongside you. Gramps always told us we was supposed to fight hard to find success, not to wait around for _failure _to find us. These boys need the leader whose gonna tell'em to take chances and then do it themselves, not the one whose so scared of f_ailure_ he ain't gonna risk it, and if that ain't you maybe it's time you moved aside and let someone else handle it. Just leave Gramps' timepiece behind when you go, 'cause I remember why he gave it to us, and it sure as hell wasn't so we could sit around counting all the seconds we was wastin' _failin'_ ourselves and everyone else around us 'cause we was too damn chickenshit to take a risk! "

Mike's expression was so carefully schooled as to appear almost made of stone, a brief but quickly hidden flicker of pain and fear the only indication he gave her that her words had hit home. It was enough, though. She'd seen it and knew how deeply she'd wounded him in that moment. His hands balled into fists, and the fierce effort to control his own temper in that instant made him shake. A solitary tear escaped despite his desperate effort at control. That single tear was Shug's undoing. She suddenly couldn't breathe as her mind replayed all of the hateful things she'd just said.

"Oh, God, Michael," Shug whispered, knowing how far across the line she'd strayed. "Please, I'm so sorry…"

He shook his head, not daring to trust his voice in that instant, wheeling quickly on his heel and walking out through the glass door leading to the balcony before, like her, he did something he'd regret. Shug covered her face with her hands, struggling for some measure of composure herself. What had she just done?

Shug knew how bad Gail had hurt them when she'd toyed with his heart, stringing him along, taking him for all she could while pretending she cared just to make some other guy jealous, then laughing in his face at the thought she could have ever been in love with someone like him. She'd been both the first and the last girl he'd ever truly risked his heart on, with the possible exception of April. No, she realized suddenly, walking away from April and agreeing to be just friends had been something of a relief for all he pretended otherwise, as his insecurities had already started chewing their way through his courage, reminding him what happened when you risked so much of yourself on someone else.

_Not someone_, her inner voice reminded her. _Women._ And, as if to prove it, here she'd gone and turned on him now, too_. Dammit_!

She also knew how terrified of failure Mike really was. He'd heard the predictions his whole life that he'd end up dead or in jail by the time he was 21. For all he'd proven that particular prediction wrong, the absolute certainty everyone had that he'd never amount to anything gnawed at him. It still woke him up late at night, she knew, their grim predictions ringing in his ears, the overwhelming fear that they might have been right grasping his heart so tightly he could hardly breathe. The one thing that hurt him more than Gail ever had was that terrifying fear that he was destined to fail.

_Give him a minute,_ she told herself, taking that time to gather herself together, too. _Let him breathe a minute, then go apologize again for being the damn fool that you are and beg him to forgive you._

Thunder rumbled loudly, echoing through the old beach house. Lightening struck almost immediately after, casting strange and eerie shadows throughout as the lights flickered. Spying Mike's jacket on the coat hanger she realized he'd be soaked to the skin standing out there on the balcony like that. Sighing, she grabbed it up, thinking to give it over to him and try to make peace, hoping he'd forgive her for all the things she'd said.

She ran out onto the balcony calling his name, only to discover he wasn't there. Quickly she flew down the slippery stairs, stumbling halfway down to straighten up like a newborn cold on shaky legs at the foot of them.

"MICHAEL," She called, looking desperately in all directions. The rain stung as it pelted her skin, obscuring her vision. The thunder rumbled again, drowning out her cries, and the lightning struck closer as she ran around to the front of the beach house. The Monkee mobile was still there. She looked into the garage to find that the dune buggy, bikes, and unicycles were all there as well. She shrugged on his coat reluctantly, running back around and down to the beach, desperately trying to think of someplace he would go.

She ran down to the ragged patch of grass where he'd found her after they'd fought once before, on another stormy night, but there was no sign of him. She ran down a little further to the outcropping of rocks where they'd talked few weeks later, but he wasn't there, either. She ran her hands through drenched and tangled hair, fighting back the panic that began to rise within her.

What had she done?

She ran back to the beach house, hoping against hope that he'd already returned. Maneuvering carefully up the rain slicked stairs, she rehearsed in her head what she'd say to him if she found him. Bursting back into the pad, she almost slipped across the slick floor, only managing to keep her feet beneath her when two strong arms wrapped around her, keeping her upright.

"Hey, Shug, what were you doing out in the rain?' Peter asked, carefully righting her. One look into her eyes told him something was terribly wrong. It was then that he realized who else was missing.

Tears coursed down her cheeks, and a sob escaped as she pulled away from him. "Pete…please tell me he's come back."

Peter hurried upstairs to check their room and grab another towel out of the linen closet. He groaned when he found the room empty, knowing that something had to have gone terribly wrong. "Here," he said, approaching Shug. "Let's get you dry, okay? Then we'll figure out where he might have gone."

Shug sat on the edge of the bandstand and buried her face in her hands. "I already looked everywhere I can think he mighta gone." She admitted pitifully. "He just…dammit, I knew, I KNEW I was going too far, but I couldn't seem to stop myself. I was just so….so MAD." She raised her tearstained face to look helplessly up at Peter. "I hurt him worse than I ever…" she shook her head and whispered, "He's not gonna forgive me this time." Another strangled sob escaped as she admitted, "Hell, I wouldn't forgive me, either. What the hell was I thinkin'?"

"Tell me what happened," Peter urged, sitting beside her and wrapping the towel around her soaked and shivering frame before drawing her into his arms. Slowly and hesitantly she leaned into his embrace and sobbed out the whole story.

"Oh," Peter breathed, initially uncertain how else to reply. "You were thinking you might want to…um…really?" He realized, looking into her hopeful chocolate brown eyes, that might not be the part of her story she was most focused on, for all it had started their current mess. They tried for a few moments to come up with anywhere else Michael might have walked off to, but both came up blank. "Don't worry, Shug," he said at last, his voice low and calming. "He'll come back. You know Mike. He always comes back."

Shug hesitated a moment, considering that statement, then nodded. True. Michael wouldn't just leave them, knowing how much they needed him. Who else was going to take care of things around here? Who was going to make sure that they rehearsed as they should, and find them auditions, and make sure that everything was taken care of around here?

"You're soaked to the skin," Peter said then, clearing his throat nervously as he moved to take Mike's sopping wet coat from her, trying not to think of what it meant for his friend, walking around in the still raging storm, that his coat was still here at home. "Let's get you out of these wet clothes and warmed up before you get sick, okay?"

Shug nodded, only just realizing how cold she really was. She rose with Peter, her eyes not leaving his. He averted his gaze abruptly. Looking down, Shug realized why. The soft peach colored button up shirt she wore was drenched to the point of being see-through and clung to her every curve, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination at all.

_You wanted to try it on,_ something inside herself reminded her, having caught the look in Peter's eyes before he'd turned his them away. Reaching out a shaking hand, she turned his face back to her, locking eyes with him again.

Peter took her hands and enveloped them in his own. "They're frozen," he said unnecessarily.

Shug nodded, then drew his hands toward the buttons on her shirt. She began undoing them one at a time, color rising in her cheeks. After a moment, Peter began helping her with them, drawing her closer as he drew the sodden shirt from her shoulders, dropping it on the floor and pressing his lips to her icy collar bone. His arms went around her, holding her tightly in a warm embrace for a moment before her hand reached back and pressed his to the clasp of her bra. He kissed her tenderly upon the lips as he obediently unfastened it then ran his warm hands up and down her back. She pushed back from him a moment, and Peter's gaze faltered. Smiling, Shug dropped the newly unclasped garment atop the shirt on the floor before moving Peter's hands to the waistband of her jeans. She swooped in for another kiss, deepening it as she proceeded to make short work of his robe, knowing he hadn't yet gone in to dress for bed, meaning that there'd be nothing beneath it but a quickly removed towel. Her stomach fluttered as she saw him for the first time in all his splendor, marveling at how truly beautiful he was. She gasped, unable to believe the sensations that tore through her as he began planting a trail of carefully placed kisses down her chest and stomach, simultaneously running his hands down her pale ivory legs, coaxing them out of the jeans so that they too could be discarded. He ran his hands back up them as he stood, his eyes taking in every inch of her. Once again his arms drew her to him, his hands tangling in her thick raven waves as his mouth closed hungrily upon hers. All doubts fled as Shug returned his kisses, deepening them as her hands found her way into his sandy locks. Peter drew her hips to his, letting her feel how desperate his need had grown.

"Be sure," Peter cautioned, his voice husky with desire.

Shug let her hands slide languidly down his back to grip his hips, pulling his thick and swollen member against her, allowing her hips to move firmly into his. "I'm sure," she assured him, her own voice no less heavy-laden.

Peter led her to his room without further question or comment, his hands exploring every inch of her as he backed her slowly and carefully toward his bed the moment his door had closed. He drew her bottom lip into his mouth, sucking it gently as he lowered her back carefully, positioning himself between her mile long legs.

Slowly and deliberately, Peter again trailed kisses down her neck and chest, pausing to draw a hand up to her breast, pebbling one nipple between his fingertips as his tongue traced slow and languid circles around the other. Shug arched her back, moaning softly as the unfamiliar sensations seemed to course down her spine, sparking heat within her stomach and groin. Peter smiled even as he continued his ministrations, his free hand running slowly up the inside of her thigh, pausing a moment before reaching its target, giving Shug the opportunity to change her mind and move his hand if she chose to, though he desperately hoped she wouldn't. As if in answer to his unspoken question, Shug shifted slightly, hooking both of those endlessly long legs around his narrow hips and drawing him closer, allowing him to feel the heat that emanated from her.

"Oh god," Peter breathed as his erection throbbed against her, the desire to bury himself to the hit within the inviting warmth and wetness he felt there driving him to distraction, threatening to undo him then and there. He moved his hand to her then, fingering her with the same assuredness he fingered his bass, smiling as she unraveled beneath him. "That's it," he encouraged her as he worked his fingers faster, finding quickly what he'd been seeking, his smile broadening as she bucked against his hand. He trailed kisses down her stomach once again, his mouth soon taking over the task his fingers had been set to moments before. His hands remained on the inside of her thighs, holding her open to him, his tongue moving in tantalizingly slow circles before flicking back and forth as he kissed and suckled at her swollen clit. He continued even as her hips bucked wildly, her cries growing louder as she neared climax. Only once she'd come for him did he rise from where he knelt there between her legs raising them and positioning himself carefully at her entrance.

Shug wrapped her legs around him again and drew him to her and within her, inhaling sharply against his shoulder to keep from crying out as he broke through her barrier. She held him to her, buried to the hilt within her for a moment as her body adjusted to him. After a moment, she nodded breathlessly. Slowly, Peter rocked within her, the incredible tightness gripping him in a way he'd never experienced from any other girl, threatening to cause him to shoot too quickly. Once he was certain she'd acclimated to his girth, he drew out until only the very tip remained within her, raising her legs to his shoulders and positioning himself carefully before swiftly burying himself within her again.

"SWEETMARYMOTHERO'GOD!" Shug cried out as Peter brushed against that fabled spot most men could never find, sending delicious sparks flooding through her.

Peter smiled brightly, looking down into her eyes as he began moving slowly in and out, finding that spot again and again, and reveling in her cries. His hair stuck damply to his forehead as he worked to contain his release until she once again neared her own. Only then did he increase the pace, hardly daring to believe when Shug's hips rose to meet him thrust for thrust, driving both into a maddening frenzy. Within moments both cried out, her legs tightening around him as he exploded, his seed shooting deep within her.

They laid there tangled together for several long moments, cuddling and catching their breath, when the sound of the front door closing caused both to jump.

"Oh God…if Michael finds us like…" she didn't need to go any further as Peter's eyes grew wide, indicating he understood. He jumped up, tossing her the first thing his hands closed on in his drawer before drawing a pair of gray sweat pants up and over his hips and dashing out of the room.

"Mike," He called, looking around for the previously missing guitarist.

Shug stepped out of the room in Peter's fuzzy bunny pajamas, her breathe hitching in her throat. "No…" she whispered, darting for the stairs. "No no NO."

"Shug, what is it?" Peter asked before he noticed it too. First, the clothes they'd left strewn around the room had been picked up and the puddles dried. Second, the blonde twelve string Gretch guitar that usually sat proudly upon the bandstand, Mike's pride and joy, was gone. Peter shook his head, then dashed up the stairs in Shug's wake, only to find her kneeling next to her bed, sobbing. A stack of songs, hand written and notated in Mike's distinctive scrawl sat there upon her pillow, along with Mike's old, battered wrist watch he'd received from their grandfather before he'd passed on, the missing blonde, and a note that read simply:

"You're right. Take care of them.

Mike"

( tbc)


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: While I Cry

Michael walked with his wool hat covered head bent down against the stinging raindrops, with his hands buried deep in the pockets of his faded denim jeans and his air force duffel bag and the beat up old six string acoustic guitar he'd first left Texas with slung across his back, along the narrow shoulder of the winding Pacific Coast Highway and away from every dream he'd ever had. The icy wind tore through his slender frame, settling into his bones so deep he half wondered if he'd ever be warm again. The thunder reminded him vaguely of Micky's most manic drum roll, followed immediately by the bright and jagged streaks of electricity dancing arrhythmically above the choppy ocean, glinting off the buttons of his black button-down shirt. He focused on these things the sights, sounds and smells of the world around him, determinedly avoiding any sort of introspection, yet one thought kept returning over and over, unbidden, rolling through his mind with the thunder:

He'd failed all of them.

So loud were these sounds, both within and without, that he failed to register the squealing tires of the speeding vehicle until it was much too late to do anything but welcome the darkness.

***

Kevin glanced at Eric, laughing as he took another corner fast enough to propel his friend into the door of his father's black sedan again.

"Dammit!" The younger boy cried as the contents of the open bottle sloshed out onto his clothes. "Are you trying to get me grounded? My mom will have a fit if I come home smelling like this!"

"Your mom's already passed out on the couch, stupid," the older teen snorted as he skidded back and forth on the slick and winding road. "Where do you think I got the booze in the first place?"

"Just watch the road," Eric prompted, taking another swig of Southern Comfort before passing the bottle back.

"What?" Kevin asked, closing his eyes and weaving back and forth as he downed another long swallow, smiling to himself as the younger boy begged him to stop.

He was lowering the bottle when Eric cried, "Kevin, look out!"

Slamming on the brakes, the older boy wrenched the steering wheel away from the long, shadowy figure, but it only caused the car to hydroplane that much faster into him. The sickening sound of crunching metal and bone was only slightly muffled by the thunder booming in the distance. The flash of lightening illuminated the pale figure they'd dragged from the roadside, then faded, leaving only the long slender hand and the rapidly growing river of blood visible in the dim headlights.

"Oh God," Eric hyperventilated. "You killed him."

Kevin rounded on him angrily. "WE killed him, now shut up and help me put the body in the car."

"What?" Eric took a step back. "We can't…you can't…why? Why not leave him here?"

Kevin's eyes narrowed as he moved to grip the corpse beneath its shoulders. "How long do you think it would take for the police to track his body to my dad's wrecked car? It's only a short step to us. My dad can afford a good lawyer for me, but what about you? I'm just trying to protect you, Eric. Think about it. Do you want to go to prison for murder? We have to get rid of it!"

The small brunette swallowed hard before stepping forward to help. As much as he hated it, he knew Kevin was probably right. "What are we going to do with it?"

"We'll take it to Kaitlyn's place." Kevin answered easily. His sister Kaitlyn was a former private duty nurse who lived up in the canyon. Most people tended to avoid her and her home, though, because she wasn't exactly what most would consider stable even in the best of times. She used to work with the terminally ill, and it was thought by most of the family that she too often helped them along. Even now, there were stories of strangers vanishing in the canyon that made them cringe and question what she might still be doing up there. At the moment, however, Kevin didn't much care. Let her have this new play thing if it meant his father's anger was all he'd have to risk. He knew easily enough how to handle him.

The sun was beginning to peek above the distant skyline by the time they approached the isolated old house. Something dark and ominous seemed to linger across the land, unaffected by the dim rays. Eric sat sullenly in the passenger seat, certain they'd both burn in hell for what they'd done, a thought that would have made Kevin taunt him cruelly were he ever to voice it.

"What," he attempted, clearing his throat. "What do you think Kait will do with him? The body I mean?"

Kevin almost laughed as he thought about what she would undoubtedly do before disposing of the body. The unfortunate stranger had been just her type, after all. Long and lean, with pale skin and dark hair, and with the long calloused fingers of a guitar player. Kaitlyn had been been dangerously obsessed with men like him since the band she used to listen to down in Malibu had been replaced 'her guitar player' with some Amazon woman last year, so much so that she'd had to be physically restrained from going after the woman and demanding to know what she'd done with "her Michael", unwilling to accept that he'd left town on family business as the band had claimed. They'd had to agree she'd never return to the club they'd been playing at or come anywhere near the band in exchange for her freedom. If she unleashed even half the frustration she'd felt at having "her Mike" stolen from her on this corpse there'd be nothing left of him by nightfall. He should probably be grateful he wasn't being taken to her alive! Smirking at his anxious friend, he added, "She can do whatever she wants with it as long as it doesn't lead back to us."

***

The sun rose to find Shug and Peter waiting impatiently in the livingroom, drinking cup after cup of coffee and hoping Mike would return on his own or at least call them to let them know he was alright.

"He doesn't have his coat," Shug said for the hundredth time. "He gets cold too easy in weather like this. He should have taken his coat."

"It was already soaked through," Peter reminded her yet again. "It wouldn't have helped." He placed a hand on her shoulder and reassured her, "Micky and Davy are already on their way back. We'll all go out looking for him again as soon as they get here."

Shug nodded before looking guiltily down at stack of songs she and Pete had been going through. "We shouldn't have these yet," she said softly. "He wasn't ready to give us these."

"I like these," Peter said, holding up a piece entitled 'You Told Me' in one hand and 'The Girl That I Knew Somewhere' in the other. "They seem ready to me."

Shug smiled sadly. "They're ready." She admitted, shuffling the other titles around in her hands, pausing long enough to glance at a few of them but no longer ready to share them as she added, "They've been ready. He just wasn't ready to share them." She shrugged before adding, more quietly. "It all still hurt too much."

Peter looked over the lyrics and sighed. The front door burst open before he could respond, admitting Davy and Micky.

"Anything?" Micky asked, though the looks worn on both their faces rendered the question unnecessary.

Davy stopped dead in his tracks, looking stunned. "What happened?" he demanded at last. "Mike would never just walk out on us."

"He and I got into an argument last night and he walked out," Shug replied, holding up a hand to Peter, who looked ready to protest. "I said a lot of things I ain't proud of and hurt him bad enough he likely won't ever forgive me, and if anything's happened to him it's entirely my own damn fault."

Her admission coupled with the misery in her eyes served to take the wind right out of Davy's anger. "I'm sure he's fine, Shug. Look, he can't have gone far. He's left his guitar, right?" He was startled when Shug lowered her head onto her arms, her entire body quaking with the effort to control the agonizing sobs that tore through her slender frame.

"He took some clothes in a duffel bag and the old six string he left Texas with," Peter told them before filling them in on the rest of the tale.

"Oh….oh my…." Davy looked from Peter to Micky, his eyes filled with panic. "What are we waiting for? We have to go find him?"

"Right, Davy you take the dune buggy and follow the beach." Micky quickly directed. "Peter, you take the little shops and diners. Maybe he ducked into one of them to get out of the rain. Shug, take the Monkeemobile and hit all the plane, train and bus stations in case he decided to catch a ride out of town. He'd have to busk for the cash to get one, so if he's not there, ask around. It's a safe someone would remember him. He's not exactly inconspicuous."

"What are you going to do?" Shug asked nervously as she headed to grab her keys.

"He left on foot, right?" Micky asked. At the nods of confirmation, Micky sighed. "I'll grab a bike and head south. If he decided he was heading out without a ticket, I might still be able to catch up to him. Let's just hope he's not so stuck on leaving he won't come back with me if I do."

Twenty minutes later, Micky all but dove off of his bike as shattered bits of wood and metal strings caught his eye alongside the highway.

"Mike," He called out, rushing to where the largest chunks had landed. His heart leapt up into his throat as he spied the duffel with the broken strap a short distance away, soaked and muddy, and worn through in places where it looked like it had been dragged on the asphalt.

'Don't panic, Dolenz,' he ordered himself. 'Not yet. He might have just dropped it in a hurry to avoid crazy traffic or something. Just because it got dragged doesn't mean…'

That thought was abandoned the moment he spied it a hundred yards further up the road. A strangled cry escaped him as he ran forward, retrieving it from the road before another car could run across it again. Clutching the torn muddy and bloodied wool hat to his chest, he desperately cried out his friend's name again and again.

Only the echoes answered.

(tbc)


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3. The Night Has Gone (And Taken It's Infractions)_

Micky and Davy continued helping the emergency search team look for Mike while Peter held a near-frantic Shug at the edge of the road. When Micky had returned home with Mike's bloody hat, mangled Airforce knapsack, and bits of the guitar he'd taken with him, nobody else had been there. He'd left his findings there with a note where he'd found them and, after calling the police, went back to search again, determined to find their missing friend. So far, though, there was still no sign of him. Shortly after the emergency crews had arrived to help search, the other three Monkees did as well. Shug had come back from the train station to find the note and gone to get Peter and Davy, bringing them to the place where Micky indicated he would be. It had been hours since they'd all arrived, and every inch of the area had been combed repeatedly, but there was still no sign of Mike.

"Oh, God," she whispered, her eyes fixed upon the few bits of guitar that remained to show them where her brother had been. "I done this. This was me. I …"

"No," Peter interrupted sternly, taking her by the shoulders and turning her to face him, looking up into her eyes. "Whatever happened here, it isn't your fault. Once we find Mike he'll tell you the same thing. You just watch." He continued to hold her tightly then, not sure what else he should say.

After another half hour of searching, the police chief waved them all over. "We've knocked on every door around here and nobody has seen him, so we're going on the assumption that either whoever struck him took him with them, or someone picked him up. Our hope is that they've taken him to a hospital. We've radioed his description in to all of them in the area, and to the morgues as well." As much as he might have liked to leave out that part, he knew it was a possibility the four young people in front of him might have to be prepared for. "You four should go on home in case he finds his way back there or tries to call for help. Trust me, if we hear anything, we'll let you know."

"So wait. What? We're supposed to just wait?" Shug demanded, advancing on the chief angrily. "This is my brother. He's out there somewhere injured, and you're expectin' us to just sit around with our thumbs up our a.."

"SHUG!" the other three interrupted quickly.

"I'm sorry, officer" Peter said quickly he drew her back to him. "She…she's distraught…and distressed…and…um…" He looked quickly to the other two for help.

"They're twins, sir," Davy chimed in. "and, for what it's worth, I agree with her. We can't just stop looking. What if he's wandering somewhere, confused and …and bleeding…and…"

"Please, we can't just give up. We have to find him," Micky choked almost desperately.

"I understand, and I'm sorry, but you have to understand, we've scoured every inch of the area. Your friend isn't here." The chief said calmly. He nodded to Peter. "Take her home now. Stay by the phone. I'll let you know if we find anything."

As much as they wanted to argue, they knew they didn't really have much choice but to do what the officer said. The Monkees were out of ideas.

Kevin hurried back to the car, having conversed with his sister through the door, calling out as he approached. "She says to just drop it next to the woodpile and she'll take care of it once she's dressed, then take the car down to Jaspers and tell them dad hit a deer or something. He'll fix it no questions asked. After that, it'll be like this never happened. " He paused, scowling, when he saw that the Eric was still standing there staring at the body, but hadn't moved. "Hey IDIOT," he yelled. "Did you hear what I said?"

"Yeah, Kev," Eric replied quietly, still staring into the back seat. "I don't think we can do that, though."

"Well, why the hell not?" Kevin demanded. Looking inside, though, he understood why Eric suddenly believed that wouldn't be an option.

There was no longer an "it" in the backseat. There was a "he". And "he" wasn't dead yet. Kevin watched as the fingers of the dark haired man's hand twitched again and swore. "Ok. Look Eric, this doesn't change anything. If we take him to the hospital there will be questions. We will be arrested. Our whole lives will be ruined."

Eric looked at Kevin as if he'd lost his mind. "What about his life, Kevin? It's not too late. We can still…"

"I thought I told you to put it by the woodpile," The blonde woman yawned as she approached the car. "Don't tell me you're still so drunk you can't even…" she stopped talking when she reached the car, her eyes narrowing. "Michael? You hit my MICHAEL?"

"No, now, Kait, it's not …" Kevin began, thinking she was having another episode. Before he could finish that though, he found himself unceremoniously shoved onto his backside out of the way.

"You! Runt! Go get the long board from the back of the house. RUN!" Kait ordered. Eric didn't wait for her to say it again. Instead, he ran around to the back of the house, reminding himself that at least she wasn't talking about the man in the car as if he were already dead. "Get off your ass and go clear off the table inside, Idiot." She barked at Kevin as she climbed in beside the injured man, beginning to examine his wounds. "Its okay, my love." She whispered, smoothing his hair back, frowning at the amount of blood soaked into. "You're home now."

Eric returned with the board and followed Kaitlyn's directions to guiding the injured man onto it, and together they carried him inside. They deposited him onto the long kitchen table, then Kaitlyn began giving out orders again. "Kevin, go into my room. Under my bed is daddy's lost medical bag. Bring it here. You…Eric, is it?" at the youth's nod, she continued, "go into the kitchen. I need a bowl full of hot water and all the cloths and towels on the shelf in there." While they went to find their items, she took a pair of scissors out of the nearby desk drawer and began carefully cutting away the rain and blood soaked clothes, revealing all of Michael and his injuries to her. She frowned at how truly thin and pale he was beneath those ruined garments as she cast them aside and her eyes took in every inch of him, how icy his skin was to the touch as she ran her hands slowly up his arms, down his chest, hips and legs, in theory to feel for breakage. She pressed her lips to his neck, pleased to feel the pulse there, though it was weaker and threadier than she'd have liked it to be.

"Here," Kevin said, tossing the bag onto the table beside them.

"Bring the coat stand over here," Kaitlyn said without looking in her brother's direction, unwilling to tear her gaze from the form of the man before her. She opened the bag and withdrew several vials and a needle. "We'll need to start an IV. I've got what I need here to get started, but I'm going to need you to get some more things from Daddy for me. I'll make you a list."

Kevin halted, staring at her. She didn't understand what she was asking. She couldn't. If they brought their father into this, he'd know what Kevin had done.

"Relax, idiot, I'll cover for you, just do as I say." She turned her gaze to him at last. "Or you can stand there and defy me and I'll call the police myself."

Eric came in as she said the last and almost dropped everything in his panic. Kevin helped him take it all to the table, trying not to be off put by his sister's threat, or by the sight of the overly thin, deathly pale figure upon the table. "We'll need to take the truck." He told his sister. Kaitlyn nodded, her attention on that same figure, though her reaction to the sight of it was far different than her brother's. "Go and dispose of those things," she told Eric, gesturing to the wrecked clothing she'd cut away before setting to his injuries.

Eric quickly gathered the things and carried them outside. Once out of view of the other two, though, he fished through the tattered pockets to find the one thing he needed to try to set this right. Pocketing the wallet that would, he hoped, tell him who the man was and where his family might be. Armed with that knowledge, maybe he could still set this right.

(tbc)


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4. Then She Comes Creeping_

Eric followed Kevin down in the truck while Kevin dropped off the sedan at Jasper's Garage, then Kevin drove them to a gas station. When Kevin ran in to pay for gas and get them sodas, Eric searched out the pay phone. Once he was certain that Kevin couldn't see him, Eric dashed for the phone, fishing Mike's wallet out of his pocket. Picking up the receiver, he looked nervously over his shoulder, praying Kevin wouldn't come out before he'd finished the call and gotten safely back into the truck.

"Operator, can you connect me to the police, please." Eric stage whispered, terrified of what would happen if Kevin overheard him. "Yes, sir," he continued when the call had been connected. "I need to report an accident. No, no…not now. This morning. Early…like, 2am. On Pacific Coast Highway." He glanced over his shoulder again and noticed Kevin with his back to him through the window, approaching the register. "We hit a pedestrian. A man. He's really hurt. We thought he was dead, and we panicked. We took him somewhere, only he's not dead and now ..."he paused again, then shook his head, "No, he's alive, or at least he was when we left, but they won't take him to hospital and I'm not sure how long he's safe there." He paused to listen, panicking as Kevin paid for their things and headed for the door. "No, no, I'm sorry. Please, just listen. His name is Michael Nesmith. He lives at 1334..."

"HEY!" Kevin shouted, running toward Eric.

Eric pocketed the wallet quickly and said nervously, knowing Kevin could hear him. "No, mom, I told you I stayed over at…"

Kevin hung up the phone, eying Eric suspiciously. "Who were you talking to?"

"My mom," Eric answered, clearing his throat. "I just called to tell her I stayed over with you, so she wouldn't worry. I think maybe she's still drunk, though."

Kevin looked at Eric as if seeking some hint of deception, but finally seemed to buy his story. "When isn't she? You could call her a hundred times, and she'll still ask you where you were when you get home, right?"

"yeah…" Eric answered, thankful for the first time in his life for his mother's alcohol addled memory. "I guess so. I just thought maybe this time…"

Kevin ruffled Eric's hair and shoved a Coke into his hands. "Come on. I'll drop you off at home before I go get Kait's supplies."

Kaitlyn barely noticed the boys leave, so focused was she on the beautiful broken man lying there in front of her. "Don't worry, Michael," she said, brushing his hair back gently from his eyes, admiring the contrast of his long, dark lashes upon his pale ivory skin. "I've got you now."

She finished cleaning his injuries, then set about repairing what she could. She stitched the long gash on his head, then carefully pulled his dislocated right shoulder back into place, wrapping it and his ribs so that they would heal. After a quick run to her room to get what she needed, she put together a traction splint for his obviously broken right femur. Once she was sure she'd taken care of all of the obvious injuries, and knowing there was little she could do to keep him alive if he'd suffered any serious internal injuries, she took his temperature again, then frowned.

"We have to warm you up, my love," she cooed, bringing blankets to tuck around him. Climbing underneath them with him, she laid her head upon his left shoulder, wrapping her arms around him a moment before slowly and deliberately running her hands up and down his chest. After a moment, she planted a row of soft, gentle kisses along his icy collar bone, then down his sternum, her hand trailing along before, following the dark, downy trail lower.

"Soon," she whispered as her hand found its target, her fingers gently tracing along its venous length before circling the tip, then tracing back only to begin their journey again. Her tongue delicately flicked at his Adam's apple before her lips worked their way up his.

"You're too thin." She whispered between kisses. "I know, love. It's hard to keep weight on when some bitch steals your livelihood, isn't it? Don't worry, though. I'll take care of her for you. Her and the other three, too. They'll all pay for hurting you like this. I promise."

She smiled softly as she gave more attention to the effect of her ministrations, grasping his thick, firmness and urging him onward with long, slow, deliberate strokes along its entire length.

"mmm…I'm so glad your finally home, Michael," she breathed, the heat between her own thighs demanding attention. Placing another kiss tenderly upon the still unconscious man's lips, she drew her hands up his torso, then sat up, shedding her garments quickly. Carefully, she straddled him, then lowered herself onto him, savoring the delicious feeling of him within her, filling her so completely, for a moment before she began rocking her hips, slowly at first, then faster, coaxing him toward release even as her own body demanded the same. "You're mine, Michael." She said breathlessly, circling her hips, her head lolling back in ecstasy. "You belong to me." She cried out his name as she came with him, then wrapped herself around him, letting her own body warm his, until no hint of chill remained.

"It's taken too long for you to come home to me." She informed him as she slowly rose, dressed, and cleaned him once again before tucking the blankets securely around him. "Now that you're here, though, I'll take care of you. I'll take care of everything, you'll see. You'll stay here with me from now on and I promise, nobody will ever get near you again. I'll kill anyone who tries to take you away from me again."

Back at the pad, the phone rang. Four sets of hands reached for it together. Shug gripped the receiver, tugging it insistently from the others.

"Hello," she answered, then paused to listen. "Yes, this is she." She looked at the others, waving them closer as she tilted the handset so that Micky, who stood across the phone table from her, could listen as well. "Did they say where he was?" She closed her eyes tightly in frustration, then asked. "Well, did they say who they were? Maybe they can…" Looking over to Peter helplessly, she shook her head. "Thank you…no, I appreciate that, sir….we will….goodbye."

Peter hung up the phone as she sank into a chair, drawing her knees up to her chest. "He's alive." She told them, in case they hadn't heard. "Whoever hit him took him with them. They said the boy who called sounded very young and very afraid. He said they thought he was …" she swallowed hard, fighting back against the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. Struggling for a calm she didn't feel, she began again, " they thought he was dead, and they panicked." Davy paled visibly at the thought, so Shug reiterated, "…but he isn't, though. He's alive." She considered leaving off the rest of what the detective said, but she knew Davy and Pete, who hadn't been able to hear much from where they were, deserved to know. "But he's hurt. Badly. And whoever has him won't take him to a hospital." She shook her head, lowering it to her knees, unable to fight back the terror and guilt and overwhelming sense of loss any longer.

"How are we going to find him?" Davy asked, looking to the others for answers. "We have to find him."

"I don't know," Micky, who'd been nearest the receiver alongside Shug, answered, starting to pace, desperately needing to be doing more to help their missing friend. "The caller didn't give his name or say where he was calling from. They're trying to find out now, and they're sending out cars to each of the auto repair shops in the area to see what they can find. It's not much to go on."

Peter did his best to comfort Shug despite the tears coursing down his own cheeks. He felt helpless. Looking at the Micky and Davy's expressions, he knew he wasn't alone, either. They'd all do anything to find Mike and bring him safely home. Unfortunately, the detective's call had given them only the very slightest of assurances and no real leads at all.

_Please God_, Peter prayed silently as he held Shug tightly in his arms. _I'll do anything you want, but please let us find him before it's too late._

( tbc)


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5. She Made A Vow_

Shug looked up at Peter and the others after several long moments, then slowly unfolded herself, deciding that she'd pushed Mike until he had left her with the responsibility to lead, and it was past time she'd started doing it until he was back with them and in a position to do it himself again.

_Because_, she promised them all silently, _he is coming back._

"Let's look at this," she addressed the others, wiping the tears from her eyes and clearing her throat. "The caller sounded young, and afraid. He said 'we' hit him and 'we' panicked, though, not 'he' or 'she' or 'they'. So we're probably looking at high school? Maybe college, but if he sounded that young it's probably high school."

Davy frowned, his brow knitting into one bushy bunch as he tried to figure out where she was going with all of that. "How does that help, though?" he finally asked. "He didn't leave a name. It's not like we can just go to the high school and announce 'would whoever hit our friend step forward' is it?"

"No, but that doesn't mean we can't do something with it," Micky said, snapping his fingers as an idea struck. "Pete, run in and grab the picture of Mike that Teresa took out of Davy's album."

"What do you need that for?" Davy asked curiously, beginning to be bothered that he still felt a step behind.

"I gave my copy to the officers when they needed a recent one and it's the most recent we've got." Micky told them. "We need to take this to Artie and tell him we need new flyers made."

"But we just had flyers made," Peter pointed out, though Davy's eyes went wide with understanding. Shug nodded her encouragement, seeing that she and Micky were on the same page.

"Not for the band, Peter," Davy said. "For posting at the high schools, right Micky?"

"That's right. At the schools, grocery stores, anywhere that the caller might spot them. If we can get him to call us, we can find out where they took Mike before it's too late." Micky agreed, looking toward Shug for approval.

"Good, Mick. Go on and get that picture, Peter." Shug said, standing and drawing the keys out of her pocket. "We don't have time to waste."

"Um…Shug?" Davy began, hoping he wouldn't set off the tall Texan's temper. "One of us should still stay here and mind the phone, right?"

Before Shug could protest, Micky stepped in. "He's right. I mean, if the caller knew Mike's name, then he might look him up in the phone book and try calling here. Or he might call the police again. Or Mike might call us himself."

Reluctantly, Shug nodded, passing the keys to Micky. "You're right. Y'all go on and take care getting those flyers made and posted. Check in every half hour or so, though, so I can update you if someone calls."

Peter kissed her lightly on the cheek, then the three men hurried out the door, leaving Shug to worry on her own. Sitting down, the raven haired woman stared at the phone. "Ring, damn you, " she whispered after several long moments. "I need my brother home."

Eric sat on the edge of his bed, slowly going through the phone book. "Nesmith…Nesmith…Nes…here. Ok." Picking up the receiver, he began to dial when his mother stumbled drunkenly into his room.

"Who are you calling?" she slurred, her eyes narrowing. "Do you have some girl you're calling, Eric? Because you know…" she reached out and snatched the receiver, slamming it down on the cradle. "…how I feel about that."

"I was just calling Kevin," Eric protested, counting on his mother's sieve-like memory to forget that Kevin had only dropped him off a few minutes before.

Eric's mother spied the wallet on the bed next to her son and grabbed it quickly. "Whose is this?" she demanded, opening it up and looking at the ID. "Where did you get some other man's wallet, Eric?"

"I…I found it. I was going to drop it in the mailbox. You know. So that it could get back to him." Eric sputtered, frowning as his mother opened it and took what little cash there was inside the wallet, placing it in her pocket before snapping it shut again.

"I'll drop it in a box at the post office." She said, putting the wallet in another pocket. "I need to go to the market anyway. Do you want anything?"

Eric shook his head slowly. _Nesmith_, he kept repeating silently to himself, visualizing the name and address on the ID he'd seen, determined to remember.

"Of course you do." His mom smiled. "You need a pop. Come on. I'll pick get you one for carrying the groceries home for me." That decided, she turned and left the room, leaving Eric no choice but to trail along behind her, hoping he'd have the chance to make that call very soon.

The truck horn alerted Kaitlyn that Kevin had returned. With one last longing look back at her Michael, Kait ran out to meet him, knowing he'd need help carrying in some of the things on her list. She was surprised, then when she almost ran into her father, Doctor Kristopher Lewis, standing there in her doorway, scowling down at her.

"Where is the patient," he rumbled without preamble.

"The young man your son mowed down is inside," Kaitlyn replied coolly, stepping back and letting them in.

Dr. Lewis looked startled. "Kevin said his friend was driving."

"Kevin lied," Kait answered, turning her fury in her brother's direction "He also told them at Jasper's that you were driving and you hit a deer. Don't be surprised if the cops come looking for you."

The doctor's eyes widened. "Kevin?"

The teen looked from his father to his sister. "I was…Kait told me to say that."

"Kait told him to bring him inside and get me some medical supplies." Kaitlyn corrected coolly. "His friend did the first, and he brought you instead of the second. Everything else is on his head."

"We'll straighten this out after I've looked at him," Dr. Lewis growled.

"I've already taken care of him, Daddy." Kaitlyn said sweetly. "If you'll just leave the things on my list, we can just…"

The heavy-set doctor huffed. "He might as well be looked over by a competent physician instead of just a nurse as long as I'm here." Ignoring the flash of fury in his daughter's eyes, he nudged her. "Lead the way."

"You said you'd back me up," Kevin whispered to his sister as their father stepped toward the prone form wrapped in blankets on the table.

"As long as you did what I told you to," Kait hissed back. "Bringing him here was not part of that."

The doctor set his bag on the nearest chair and opened it, ignoring his children entirely. He began examining the young man, taking notes as he did so. Running his pen along first one foot then the other, testing for any response and finding none, the doctor frowned.

"What does that mean," Kevin asked, watching his father nervously. "Is his back broken? Is he going to live or…"

"It might just be swelling. We won't know more until we've got him xrayed." The doctor answered absently waving off the boy. "Fairly good traction cast, Kait." He offered as he drew back the blankets. "Kevin, bring me the hospital gown you asked for. You're right, this boy should be covered up. We know your sister has no modesty, but he just might." He ignored his daughter's building rage as moved toward her telephone. "I suspect a few fractures. He'll need to be checked out more thoroughly."

"That's why I asked Kevin to bring the portable xray unit." Kait pointed out, following him. "I want to rule out spinal fractures, since this idiot's idea of transporting him carefully was to stuff him into his back seat and haul ass this way."

"Language, Kaitlyn," the doctor chastised, ignoring the rest of her rant, picking up the receiver. "Kevin, go get the stretcher."

"What do you mean, go get the stretcher?" Kait asked, her eyes narrowing into furious slits. Her voice remained deceptively pleasant as she added, "We can't move him to the bed until we know the condition of his spine."

"We're not moving him to the bed, Kaitlyn, we're transporting him to the hospital. Obviously," the doctor said, hanging the phone up mid-dial and pushing past his daughter when the man upon the table groaned softly. "Keep still." He directed the young man sternly. Once the boys dark coffee brown eyes were opened, the doctor flashed his pen light in first one then the other, nodding when the boy flinched away, the light searing through his skull. "What is your name?" the doctor demanded.

Michael swallowed hard, blinking as he prepared to respond. His eyes went wide, his distress apparent as he realized he didn't know the answer.

"Relax." The doctor sighed, noting the boy's expression. "It'll come back to you." The doctor knew as well as anyone that it might not, but he wasn't going to add to the boy's distress in such an uncontrolled environment. "Do you know what happened to you?"

The boy closes his eyes. "No sir," he said at last, the soft Texas drawl only just barely noticeable in his quiet tones.

"Do you know where you are now?" the doctor asked, unsurprised when the boy responded negatively. "Alright. Just take it easy. I'm not going to answer all those for you just yet. I'd rather see if they came back on their own. For now, I want to just check you out here." He proceeded to check Mike over carefully again, this time making note of when the boy either registered pain or, worse, no sensation at all. "Alright. You keep still a second. I'll be right back." The doctor told the young man on the table, moving back to where Kait and Kevin stood on either side of the stretcher. "His injuries are serious, Kaitlyn. We need to get him to a hospital."

"Is he bleeding internally?" Kait demanded.

"Not as far as I can tell, but his head and spinal injuries are …" the doctor brushed her off, only to be interrupted again.

"Potentially life altering but not immediately life threatening provided he's kept still and taken care of, correct?" Kait pressed.

The doctor looked at his daughter sternly. "Kaitlyn Marie Lewis. Stop. He needs to receive proper medical care. He is going with us. End of discussion."

Kait flinched, then stepped aside, so that Kevin could pull the gurney past them. "Of course, daddy." She said sweetly, a smile flitting upon her lips. "You're the doctor." The moment her father stepped forward to follow the gurney, however, Kait grasped the poker from the nearly fireplace, raised it, and brought it down hard against her father's head, splitting it like an overripe melon. "Nobody," she screeched as she raised it and brought it down again. "Is taking him," and yet again she struck him. "From me." She finished screaming, striking him again and again until there was nothing identifiable remaining in his features. Finally satisfied, she turned her attention to her brother. "We're going to very carefully move him to the bedroom, then you're going to get rid of that," she gestured toward their father's body, "and go get what I told you to bring me. You're going to do it right this time, and you're not going to bring anything else, or tell anyone else, do you understand, Kevin?"

"You killed him," Kevin accused, his eyes wide with horror.

"No, Kevin. You did." Kait corrected, her tone gentle and pseudo-comforting. "You broke trust. You brought him here and you agreed to help him steal my Michael from me." Realizing then that her Michael had likely seen at least part of what happened, she moved to take his hand in her own. "It's alright, dear. He was going to do something terrible to us. I had to protect us from him." Seeing the confusion in his eyes, her expression softened. "Don't worry, dear. I won't let anyone drag you out there to be hurt and betrayed again. I've got you now. You've finally come home. And nobody is ever taking you away from me."

Kevin didn't dare argue with her as the depth of her madness became clear. He tried to be careful, knowing how dangerous this had become for him. "Um, sure Kait. Whatever you say." He tried. "I'm sorry. I didn't think he meant to take him from you. I just wanted to help get him healthy for you, okay?"

Kait shot him a warning look, before turning her attention back to Mike. "This may hurt, love, but we need to move you now. We're going to put you in our bed so you can rest and sleep without being disturbed by anything else out here."

"Kait, maybe we should just..." Kevin began, only to be silenced by her glare. "…move him to the bedroom. Right." He helped her roll the tall, pale man on his side to put the board under him again, cringing when he cried out in pain. Carefully, he helped shift the board from the table to the gurney and roll the man into the bedroom, shift him carefully to the bed, then roll the board back out from under him. "Hang on, man. She'll get you something for the pain." Kevin offered nervously, surprised when he looked up at his sister to find her licking her lips, her pupils dilated. "Kait, I'm going to get the rest of the stuff out of the truck and go."

"Take dad out and drop him in the old well with the others." Kait directed him, her voice husky, her eyes transfixed upon the figure on the bed.

Kevin opened his mouth to protest, when her words hit him. Others. _Others in the old well_. He was about to add his father's body to a pile of _others_ in the old well. "Kait…" he finally managed in a very small voice, "how many others?"

"Do you want to go in and count?" she whirled on him, raising the poker.

"No…no…I just…I mean. I can't take him out there on my own. I'll end up with his blood all over me." Kevin pleaded.

"Exactly as it should be." Kait replied. "You brought him here. You betrayed me. You betrayed Michael. And you betrayed Daddy." She glared at him, poker in hand. "You're going to take him to the well and drop him in. Then you're going to come back, take this poker, and drop it in after him. After that, you're going to go and get every item on that list I gave you and bring it back, and you're going to make sure that you and your friend don't tell anyone about any of this. Ever. If you do, you'll not only be jailed for hit and run and kidnapping, but you'll go to jail for all those bodies in my well, too. Or worse. You'll join them there. Both of you will. Do you understand, Kevin?"She watched him nod, then smiled back at the pale figure. "I'll be right back, Michael. I just want to make sure Kevin does like he's supposed to."

She watched as Kevin dragged their father's body to the well, getting soaked in the corpse's blood as he went. She trained her rifle on the boy as she had him take the poker, ensuring that his bloody fingerprints were on it before he threw it in the well. Her insurance policy handled, she lowered her gun and smiled again. "You should go get the rest of the things out of the truck now, then go on and do as I told you to in the first place. And Kevin?" she waited until she was certain she had his full attention. "Don't give me a reason to come looking for you and your friend. Just be a good boy, okay?" He nodded, his eyes filled with terror, then ran to the truck. She went through the supplies he brought in, then moved to check on Michael while Kevin drove off as fast as the old truck was capable of going.

"How bad is the pain, my love," Kaitlyn cooed as she moved to his side. Noting the labored breathing and the thin sheen of perspiration upon his concussed brow, Kait, cocked her head. "poor dear," she sighed, running her hand down his chest and stomach, letting it come to rest gently upon his hip. "I can make everything better for you." She rummaged through her medical bag and withdrew a vial, drawing out a good amount into a syringe. "Here," she said, adding it to the IV she'd started earlier. "This should make you feel really good."

She waited until he started to relax, his breathing coming easier, before she let her hand trail across his hip, fondling him gently but firmly until he grew thick and hard in her hand. "Shh," she breathed as his eyes flew open, pinning his hand beneath her knee. "Don't." she warned him against trying to fight her. "Just relax. I'll make you feel really good." She waited until he stopped trying to oppose her, the drug finally seeming to take full effect, then reached out slowly and depressed the shoulder joint she'd put back into place earlier, leaning forward to press her mouth over his as he reacted, breathing in his cries hungrily before deepening the kiss forcefully. She continued working him insistently with one hand, even as the other pressed the joint again, this time harder, his screams clearly arousing her. "Breathe through it," she urged him breathlessly, increasing the speed of her ministrations with one hand even as she pressed harder still against the joint, intensifying the pain until he could no longer even scream. "Embrace the sensations, my love, let them fill you." Seeing him on the verge of losing consciousness at last, she released the pressure on his shoulder and straddled him, lowering herself onto him and urging him toward release, knowing that the sensations she unleashed from his body now would be all he would register in his half-conscious state. She sped up after a moment, desperate to be filled with his seed. "Focus on the remaining sensations now," she coaxed, riding him harder. "The pain recedes and the excitement takes over. That's it. Oh…oh yes…there my love. That's it," she worked her hips faster and faster, feeling him finally explode within her. She remained until he was completely soft, then shifted to lay beside him and drifted off to sleep knowing that the combination of strong medication and his injuries would leave him no choice but to follow.

(tbc)


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter 6. The Unsuspecting Captive_

Eric stood beside the grocery store window watching the short brunette man post the missing person's flyer and his breathing hitched.

"What's wrong, sweetheart," his mother asked, glancing disinterestedly at the flyer, having obviously already forgotten about the wallet in her pocket or the origin of the money they were spending as she settled their groceries, including a large bottle of Southern Comfort and a glass bottle of Coke on the counter. "Boys aren't meant to have long hair like that. It's shameful," she said, nodding toward the poster. "Hippies and draft dodgers. That's all his sort are."

"Mike Nesmith already served his country in the airforce, and as for him being a hippie?" the teller shook her head. "Not a chance." She shrugged as Eric's mom scowled at her. "I'm just saying, I know him. He's a Monkee."

"My point exactly," Eric's mom spat. "Intelligent boys, don't…"

"No, I mean he's part of the rock group 'The Monkees'. He plays guitar and sings. He even writes a lot of their music." the teller glared hard at the opinionated woman. "He's very smart, for your information. And sweet, too, you dig?"

Eric's mom drew herself up to her full height and glared back. "I want to speak to your manager, young lady. I'm almost positive he does not pay you to argue with his customers!"

"Can we just go, mom," Eric said quietly, feeling as if he might throw up.

"Not yet, dear. Not until I speak to the manager," his mother said, not even bothering to look his way.

Two other guys had joined the short one out in front and they all seemed worried. Eric stepped back as the manager hurried over, then headed toward the exit, intending to talk to the three outside when Kevin arrived and intercepted him.

"You can't go out there," Kevin said, steering him in the other direction. In hushed tones, he hurriedly told his friend what had happened. "I've been looking everywhere for you so I could warn you. You can't say anything to anyone. Ever."

Eric looked at his friend in disbelief. "I won't give your name, Kev, okay? I'll take full blame for it, just let me tell them where he is."

"You can't!" Kevin yelled, securing the attention of everyone in the store. "Weren't you listening to me?"

"Kevin," Eric's mother admonished. "What are you shouting for?"

"I…I…I…came to take Eric to the…um…practice..for…uh…that math competition…but he says he's going to skip it to help you carry groceries." Kevin grasped desperately. "I told him he can't. Not if he wants to win. Right? "

"Absolutely!" she said, raising her hands in exasperation. "You're lucky you've got such a good friend to keep you on track, Eric. What would we do without him?"

"Gee, mom, I don't know," Eric said through clenched teeth. Realizing that the only hope he had to let them know about their friend was passing by quickly, he blurted. "I'll need my wallet."

"Why would I have your …" Eric's mom began before reaching into the pocket he pointed to. Withdrawing the battered leather wallet, she handed it over, trying desperately to remember putting it there."Oh. Of course. Here."

Kevin drew Eric along in his wake, pausing only a fraction of a second when the smaller boy seemed to stumble.

"Hey, are you okay?" The blond friend of their missing victim hurried to help him to his feet.

"He's fine," Kevin spat, yanking Eric from the blond's grasp and hauling him bodily along.

The blond stared off after them a moment before looking down at what the younger boy had pressed into his hands. His eyes went wide when he recognized it, just as his two friends did as well. "Guys…guys. That's them!" he shouted waving Mike's wallet as Micky ran for the Monkeemobile.

The curly haired drummer ran to get their car, then waived the blonde in as he called to the short brunette, "Davy, call the police and tell them we're following the guys who hit Mike. Then call Shug!"

Kaitlyn rose up on her elbow, yawning sleepily as she took in the appearance of the young man there with her. Reaching up with her free hand, she absently smoothed his hair back from his fevered brow as she listened to him draw one slow and ragged breath after another. "I'm sorry, love. I shouldn't have slept so long. Let me get you something." Rising, she added more pain medication into his IV line and went to get a sponge and basin, carefully washing the sweat from his face, then body, lingering over him and fondling him longingly, ignoring his protests and weak efforts to move her hands away from him, before reminding herself what she needed to do at the moment. "We should get something into you. I want to give you something for the fever and maybe some more antibiotics, but not on an empty stomach." She kissed him hard on the mouth. "I'll be right back." She flipped the television on, knowing he'd see it where she had it on the hutch from the bed, unaware how the glare from the set tore through his head so painfully, forcing him to keep his eyes tightly shut.

"Let's just see what's on," the blond woman called from the kitchen, then froze as the newscaster spoke.

"…idea was it to put up the flyers?" she was asking tall, lanky woman identified as Merrabeth "Shug" Nesmith, twin sister of the missing man, in the caption.

"Micky and I came up with it," the Texan answered, brushing her dark hair back tiredly."We know that someone knows where he is, so someone can help bring him back home. All they have to do is call."

A face that Mike knew he should have been familiar sprang to mind at the sound of the woman's soft Texas drawl. Who was she? Why couldn't he remember?

"Is there anything you'd like to say to whoever has your brother?" the anchor urged.

The camera zoomed in on Shug's worried face, but it was the words the raven haired woman spoke that caused Kaitlyn to scream in pure unadulterated rage.

"I know Mike's hurt pretty bad and right now you might not be willin' to get him to help, but, I'm beggin' you to just call an ambulance and let him get taken care of. We can't lose him like this, please." The tall woman's coffee brown eyes grew bright with tears. "Please. We just need Michael back safe with us. "

The camera panned away from the agonized woman, to focus back on the flyer bearing Mike's picture and personal statistics. "Just to recap, the missing man is 25 year old Michael Nesmith. He is 6'2" tall, and weighs 140 pounds. He has dark brown hair and brown eyes. Mr. Nesmith is believed to be seriously injured and in desperate need of medical attention. If you have any information that could lead to his safe recovery, we urge you to call the number currently showing on your screen." She paused a moment for viewers to take down the information on the screen before continuing. "We here at channel 8 news will provide updates as the story develops. Back to you, Steven."

The enraged woman's screams drowned out most of the newscaster's comments. They were accompanied by the sound of dragging furniture for several long moments before she stormed back into the bedroom, withdrew another vial from the medical bag, filled a syringe and emptied it straight into his arm despite his efforts to pull away from her."We have to hide you. They can't ever find you or they'll take you away." she told him. She kissed him forcefully, savoring the taste of his blood from where his lips scraped against his teeth, before adding. "I won't let them have you. I promise. I'll see them dead or us first before anyone'll take you from me." She smoothed his hair back from his dark, confused eyes, cooing, "Just sleep now. I'll take care of everything."

Michael was still trying to force his sluggish mind to piece it all together as his surroundings floated away.

The sound of the phone ringing, prompted Shug to run back inside as the newswoman, who'd shown up unannounced on her doorstep clutching one of their flyers with a filming crew in tow, wrapped up her spiel.

"Shug, it's Davy," the tiny Brit announced unnecessarily. "Micky and Peter are following the teens who hit Mike. I've called the police, and they're joining the pursuit. I'm catching a bus home now."

"How can they be sure it's them?" Shug asked, afraid to hope too quickly. "It ain't like they left their descriptions."

"Better," Davy answered. "The smaller of the two saw us hanging the flyer at the grocery store and passed Pete Mike's wallet before the bigger kid dragged him off."

"Oh, God." Shug breathed, the impact of what he was telling her hitting home at last. "We're going to find him, aren't we?"

"Course we are," Davy answered, hoping he wouldn't regret those words. "I have to go. The bus is here. I'll be home in a few minutes."

"Anything we should know about?" the newscaster asked Shug as the tall, raven haired woman began to pace.

"Davy's on his way home by bus. He says Micky and Peter are following the boys who hit Mike. The police'll be joining in the chase, too." Shug repeated absently. "He says the smaller boy gave Pete Mike's wallet before the bigger boy dragged him off."

"So, he's probably the one who called the police earlier?" the woman asked, jotting down notes. Shug just nodded.

"You know, Shug. Our station does have a helicopter. We mostly use it for traffic reports and such, but it could be used to track a high speed chase for the right incentive," the newswoman offered. "Maybe we could join the hunt in exchange for an exclusive?"

Shug turned to the woman, her eyes narrowing. "Don't say that if you don't mean it, 'cause I ain't sure I could keep my temper right now. That's my brother out there, and I..."

The newswoman just smiled, holding up a hand to stop the onslaught. "How long before your friend gets home?"

The sound of the bus stopping across the street prompted Shug to fly out the door, providing the answer.

"Come on, Jason, we're about to get ourselves a Pulitzer!" the newswoman crowed, "Just keep that camera rolling!"


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter 7. A Toy That You Could Take Up When You Felt The Urge_

"What do you mean we can't have it?" the newswoman barked into the radio. "Didn't you hear me? We do this we get the exclusive." She frowned at her boss's response, then argued, "He's not just another long-haired weirdo, he's a veteran of the Air Force, a well known and loved member of the community, and this young lady's twin brother. He's the victim of vehicular assault, run down in the middle of the night and then kidnapped. Don't you see all the potential here? This is human interest at its best. Mystery. Drama. Our ratings will go through the roof." She said then, mouthed, "_sorry. Have to sell it or he'll keep saying no_," to a horrified and furious looking Shug. In the end, he kept saying no anyway. Undaunted, the newswoman waved them all into the van and turned on the police scanner, locating the chase and pushing her driver to get them there. "I'm sorry it's not as good as a helicopter, but we'll get you there either way," she apologized to Shug sincerely. The driver floored it, getting them to the chase and staying with it.

Davy cringed as the driver of the pick-up truck took a section of the winding road particularly fast, almost losing control of it. "Pull over," he urged them as if he could, through sheer force of will, make them do it. "Won't help anyone to injure yourself in another accident on the way to your last victim." Feeling Shug flinch beside him, he took her hand and whispered, "Sorry. I'd just rather he held off killing himself until after he told us where Mike was." Shug just nodded tersely, not trusting her voice at the moment.

_We're coming, Michael_, She thought. _Just hang on. We're coming._

Kevin swerved again, taking the curves and turns at breakneck speed, yet the bright red muscle car remained behind him. "What did you say to them, Eric?" He demanded, certain his friend was the reason they were being chased.

"I didn't say anything," Eric spat back defiantly. "I just gave them their missing friend's wallet."

"Their missing….dammit, Eric, she's going to kill us if they don't. Don't you get it?" Kevin could feel the panic rising as he he began to yell, "She's completely gone off the deep end. I don't know what she's doing to him, but I do know that she's not going to give him up without a fight. Do you really want her coming after me, or you or …or your mom? Because if she'll kill our dad right there in front of me and the dead guy…."

Eric flinched. "Stop calling him that. He's not 'the dead guy'. He's not dead, Kevin. His name is Michael. He's alive and he needs help and that's our fault. We have to make this right!"

The sound of sirens reached their ears as multiple police cars joined in the chase.

"Pull over, Kevin." Eric begged. "Please, let's just do the right thing for once. Please."

Betrayed, Kevin reached across the cab of the truck and smacked Eric hard. "I made you!" he shouted. "You were nobody before I hung out with you. Just another worthless geek. I brought you into my circle and I made people see you, and this is how you pay me back? You turn on me!"

"Do you even hear yourself?" Eric demanded, wiping the blood from his lip. "You sound like her!"

The words hit Kevin like a bucket of ice water. Reluctantly, he pulled the truck to the side of the road, shaken to the core by the thought that he could become as monstrous as his sister was, allowing the police and the tricked out GTO to surround them.

The inspector approached with his gun drawn, noting the medical supplies in the back of the truck, including a portable x-ray unit and a defibrillator. He waited patiently as the officers drew the boys from the vehicle, searching and cuffing them while reading them their rights, making certain they understood them. He approached the driver, nodding to the truck bed. "That's a lot of medical supplies, son. You want to tell me where you were going with them and why?"

Kevin's gaze trailed from Eric to the two long-haired guys from the GTO who stared at him intently as if trying to make him disclose where their friend was by sheer force of will. A news van pulled up behind them and the other guy from the grocery store exited along with a tall, thin woman with similar features to the guy he'd run down and the woman from channel 8 news, along with her cameraman.

The newswoman and her cameraman meant, he realized, that it would be on television. Kaitlyn watched channel 8 news. She'd know he betrayed her.

"Where is he?" the tall woman yelled, struggling against the officers who'd caught her as she rushed at the boy, "Where's my brother? Where's Michael?"

Suddenly Kevin couldn't breathe. "I can't tell you." He answered shrinking back and shaking his head. "She'll kill us."

"If you don't tell us where my brother is, I will," the woman replied, struggling harder against the officers.

"He's at his sister's place, and he's hurt really badly," the younger boy with a split lip answered, his head hung in shame. "That's what the supplies in the truck are for. She gave Kevin a list of things she needed for him. She's a nurse. But she's nuts."

"Shut up, Eric," Kevin pushed, paling with fear. "Do you want her to…"

"YOU SHUT UP, KEVIN!" Eric yelled back, causing the bigger boy to blanch. "We were drinking and acting stupid. It was dark and pouring down rain and we were being stupid and careless. We took the curve too fast and the car started to hydroplane. We barely saw him and tried to get it back under control and to avoid hitting him, but we couldn't." The boy began to sob, but went on almost desperately. "We slammed into him… and dragged…dragged him… under the car… into the middle of the road." He drew a breath, trying to find some control before continuing, "By the time we got enough control to stop the car it was too late. At least, we thought it was. He was under the car and he wasn't moving and there was so much blood everywhere." He lowered his gaze, tears coursing down his cheeks, unable to say anything more.

"We thought he was dead," Kevin picked up the tale then, sounding resigned and tired as he looked at his younger friend incredulously. Eric hadn't told them which had been driving. He realized. He wasn't ratting him out. He really was just trying to do the right thing. He decided then that he owed it to Eric and the missing man to do the same. He wasn't Kaitlyn, and he didn't want to be. "I was driving, not Eric. He kept begging me to slow down and pay attention and stop goofing off. I didn't listen. I was too busy being a big shot. Then we hit him. I didn't even see him. Eric did and yelled for me to look out, but it was too late. Then, I didn't want to go to jail, so I pushed Eric to help me drag him out from under the car and stuff him into the backseat. I told him that if he didn't help he's the one who'd go to jail for it even though I was driving because my family could afford a good lawyer but his couldn't, so he'd end up blamed for it all." He closed his eyes a moment as the shame of what he'd done washed over him, then opened them and went on. "I drove up them to my sister's place up in the canyon. It's really isolated. Surrounded by forest. I thought we could just hide the body there and nobody'd ever know. People disappear up there all the time. I thought he could just be another one of them. Kaitlyn's obsessed with guys like him. Tall, pale skinned, dark haired. I thought if I gave her the body she'd dispose of it after."

"After what," Davy asked, though he was pretty sure he didn't really want the answer. Kevin just looked at him a moment, and Eric looked as if he might be sick. "nevermind," Davy said quickly, now positive he didn't want to know.

_Kaitlyn_, Shug thought, a gnawing fear growing in her heart. _I remember that name from somewhere. Where did we meet a Kaitlyn?_

"She told us to leave the body by the woodpile, but when I went back to help Eric take it out of the car, the guy moved his hand." Kevin shook his head. "Just a twitch. A couple of fingers, really, but that was enough. Eric started hounding me to take him to a hospital but before we could do anything either way Kaitlyn came out and saw him. She pushed me, screaming that I'd hit 'her Michael' and started barking orders. We got him inside and she started looking at his injuries. She cut away what was left of his clothes and had Eric take them out to the garbage."

_Her Michael_, Shug's eyes went wide, remembering the altercations first at the Van Go Go then again at the Club Cassandra with an obsessed seeming woman demanding they bring back 'her Michael'. She exchanged looks with Davy and Micky, both of whom nodded. They remembered, too. The woman had been crazy, trying to attack Shug for stealing Michael's place. She'd even sent them threatening letters until they'd gone to the police. They'd assumed the police had handled the situation when they stopped seeing her everywhere and the threats had stopped.

"That's how you ended up with his wallet?" Peter asked Eric. The boy just nodded in response.

"You're the one who tried to call us, I take it?" the inspector asked. Again, Eric nodded.

"I kept trying to call someone to try to get help to him, but I kept getting caught and hung up. Then I saw you guys outside the store. " Tears streaked the boy's face. "I wanted to tell you but…"

"But I wouldn't let him," Kevin finished the sentence for him. "Kaitlyn said she'd kill us both if we told anyone and I wasn't willing to take the chance after what I'd just seen, so I wouldn't let him tell you anything back there. He tripped in front of you on purpose so he could pass you the wallet because I wouldn't let him tell you anything."

"She cleaned him up and started patching him up while we were there, but there was something about the way she looked at him. The way her hands and her gaze lingered in places," Eric said softly, getting them focused back on the injured man. He raised his head slowly, looking at those assembled. "She's not going to let him go."

"He's right. She's crazy," Kevin told them. "I didn't know how crazy, though. I realized Eric was right and we needed to get him to a hospital, but I knew she'd never just let me take him and I thought she might even fight EMTs if they came up there, so I went back with my dad. He's a doctor. Was..he was a doctor. I thought he could convince her to let him take Michael to the hospital." He started to cry then. "She killed him. Bashed his head in with a fireplace poker right there in front of me. Michael was awake then, so he probably saw it, too. My dad had just examined him and he was telling her that Michael needed to go to a hospital. His condition was serious and he needed…" he sobbed helplessly. "She killed him…she killed him and made me…she made me throw him and the poker in the old well." He shook his head. "There are others…other bodies… down there, too. She said so. And if she knows you're coming," he added, nodding toward those Shug and Davy arrived with, "she might decide to throw Michael down there too."

The newswoman's eyes went wide and she lowered her microphone as she and her cameraman exchanged a guilty look.

"No, no no!" Shug screamed, realizing what they'd just done. "Where? Right now! You have to tell us where?"

Eric just reached in and pulled the vehicle registration from the glove box, handing it to the inspector.

"Alright, you two go ahead and take these boys back to the station," the inspector directed the policemen standing just behind each boy, then, pointing at the newswoman, "You get on your radio and have an ambulance meet us up there." he quickly gave her the address, "I don't want it on the scanner. Everyone stay off the radios. If she's got a scanner, I don't want her hearing anything more. The rest of you are with me. Let's go find our missing man."

Mike awoke in a dimly lit room with no windows. Turning his head slowly, trying hard to ward off the pain that accompanied every movement, he took in his surroundings and frowned. Its decor resembled a hospital room, and yet it didn't have the antiseptic smell you'd expect in one. Instead, it smelled of damp earth and old wood and must. Attempting to shift his left elbow underneath him to push up slightly, he discovered his hands were cuffed to either side of the bed. He couldn't move his arms. His legs refused to move either, but he couldn't feel if they were cuffed or not. He couldn't feel them at all.

_Why couldn't he feel them? _

He attempted to call out, but his throat was still raw and painful from screaming the last time the crazy woman decided to make an appearance, and his voice was nearly gone. He closed his eyes against the panic that began to rise within him.

_Just think, _he ordered himself._ How did you come to be in this position? Has it always been this way? _

Something inside him answered with a loud and resounding _NO_. This wasn't where he was meant to be. His mind went back to the voice he'd heard coming from the television. The sad sounding woman with the soft southern drawl. The image of a dark haired woman with coffee colored eyes sprang to mind.

_Who was she? _

He wasn't sure, but he knew that somehow they were connected. She'd know more than anyone who he was and where he was meant to be. She's the one who would help him find himself again.

_Michael,_ he reminded himself, closing his eyes tightly against the intense pain in his head and struggling for some sort of identity, something that would unlock the rest of his memories in spite of it. _My name is Michael._

_Michael what? _His mind challenged back. _Who are you? Where are you from? Why are you here? _

All of those thoughts were abruptly preempted with a single question:_ dear God why does it hurt so much_?

The pain seemed to radiate from everywhere. Even the tiniest movement caused it to increase exponentially. He could hardly breathe. He could feel himself shaking as if he were terribly cold, and yet his entire body was coated with a thin sheen of sweat.

And then she was there, touching him everywhere and he wanted her to stop. She was grasping him tightly, letting her thumb tracing the veins before flicking her tongue across the head, taking him into her warm wet mouth as far as she could, her hand pumping and stroking the rest it's length. Her other hand darted between his legs caressing and squeezing is balls before moving lower still to tease at the pucker there, invading him with well-slicked fingers. He could feel his traitorous body responding in spite of his revulsion, lengthening and thickening, the head becoming fully engorged, but he needed her to stop.

"Please," he gasped, trying unsuccessfully to shift himself further from her. Stars shot into his field of view as darkness threatened, the pain completely overwhelming him. Still, he pled weakly, "Stop…"

Her grasp tightened with one hand as she raised her head. The other hand trailed up slowly to stroke his thigh. His abdomen. His chest. His cheek. "Oh, Michael. You don't understand, do you? I really am going to have to teach you this." She cooed. As one hand began to stroke his thick, firm length more insistently, the other continued to trail across the rest of his body. "You belong to me. That's what you wanted. You sang it to me. Every time you played and I was there you sang it to me. At the Vincent Van Go-Go. At the Club Cassandra. I followed you everywhere for months until that Amazon bitch took your place, and you sang it to me every time. You made sure I knew. Even looking everywhere but directly at me, you were always too shy to look at me, you still made sure I knew. 'Sweet young thing', 'The kind of girl I could love', 'You just may be the one'. You made sure I knew how you felt. How badly you wanted to be mine. To belong to me. And now you do. But you've forgotten. It's alright. I understand. You're injured. And so I'll explain." The hand that had been trailing across his body suddenly gripped his throat tightly as the other began to work him even more urgently. "I decide when to stop. I decide, not you. You just lay here like a good boy and don't argue. I am going to take care of you. I'll nurse you back to health and I'll see to all of your needs and in return, you will surrender completely to me. Whenever I want you. However I want you. You will be mine." She climbed onto the bed, straddling him, lowering herself slowly upon his enormous rod and savoring the feeling of being filled and stretched almost beyond endurance, and then suddenly both hands were at his throat as she rode him with a vengeance, ignoring his pain and distress and desperate struggling for air, or perhaps reveling in it, her eyes shining brightly with madness. "I choose whether to numb your pain or intensify it. I choose whether to give you air or deprive you of it. I choose whether you live or die, Michael. Nobody else. Just me. You belong to me." Her words came in staccato gasps as she neared orgasm. She could feel him twitching inside her, signaling his impending release and she increased her pace, driving him to it, coming with him while screaming in ecstasy, "I OWN YOU."

Michael felt his body betray him as his world went black.

She continued to ride him until he was completely soft then slowly raised herself from him, releasing her grip on his neck then as well. Handprints, already turning a deep and angry shade of purple, stood out starkly against his alabaster skin. She watched his chest a moment, frowning as it failed to rise and fall, then slowly tilted his head back, held his nose, and gave him the air from her lungs. Once. Twice. She took his pulse, satisfied to find that it was still there, if faint, yet his chest still failed to rise. She drew another deep breath and repeated the process again. Once. Twice. She checked his pulse again. Still beating. Still not breathing.

"Breathe, Michael." She demanded. Again she tried to breathe life back into the still figure. "It's not time yet. We're not finished." Once. Twice. "I have so many things to do with you first, my love." Again she breathed for him. Once. Twice. Checking his pulse she frowned, her voice taking on a dangerous edge. "Come on Michael, don't be stubborn." And again. Once. Twice. "DAMMIT, MICHAEL! BREATHE!" Once more. At last, he finally gasped and coughed weakly.

"That's better," she whispered softly. Going to her father's medical bag, she added something quickly to the freshly hung IV and smiled, smoothing back his thick, dark hair. "I knew you'd come back to me. You just rest now. I'll be back soon with something I know you've missed. A reward of sorts for being so good." She kissed him lightly, then walked away. The sound of a heavy door opening and closing seemed impossibly distant.

Too hurt and exhausted to argue, Michael slid back into the blackness, wishing, if only for a moment, that this time he could just stay there.

( tbc)e hH


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter 8. Here I Am_

Shug and Davy jumped into the truck with Shug behind the wheel, each thinking that the medical equipment might still be needed and neither willing to risk not having it when they find Michael just in case it was. They followed behind the police cars and the Monkeemobile, praying they'd get there before it was too late, trying not to consider the fact that it might be too late already. It seemed to be a long drive up the canyon road, and by the time they reached the small house in the middle of what seemed to be its own private forest, Shug's nerves were completely frayed. She jumped out of the truck and headed toward the house at a run, just barely slamming the truck into park first, with Davy just a half-step behind her.

"Wait," one of the officer's called, catching the lanky Texan around her waist, his partner grabbing hold of the tiny Englishman. "She could be armed in there. Better to let us go in and clear it first."

"Let go!" Shug hissed, struggling. "That's my brother in there!"

Peter put a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to calm her. "The sooner we stop fighting with them the sooner they can go in and find him." he offered.

"He's right, guys. We're just slowing them down," Micky agreed, taking hold of Davy's shoulder as well.

Shug glared at the officer nearest her, hissing, "Well, get on with it then."

The moment Shug and Davy settled down so that they could release them, the policemen filed into the house, clearing it room by room.

"Nobody's here," one of them called out at last.

The four waiting Monkees exchanged stunned looks. "What do you mean nobody's here?" Davy demanded as Shug argued, "He has to be here. There must be a hidden room or something. Look again!"

"I'll radio back and have someone ask the brother where else she might have taken him." One of the younger officers offered to the elderly inspector, who nodded before approaching the other four.

"We've got dogs on the way in." he told them. "If he was here, they'll know it. And if she dragged him out. Well, I imagine we'll know that, too. They'll follow the trail and we'll follow them." He looked Shug in the eye as he promised her. "We'll find him."

"Brother says check the old well out behind her property, sir," The young officer called over to the inspector, then blanched when he realized who he'd been talking to at the time. "Sorry…I mean…I'm sure there are a lot of places we could…um…" he withered under the inspector's gaze and quickly hurried off.

"You kids might want to go on home and …" The inspector stopped when he saw their expressions. "Or you can accompany Briggs and Stevens while they look around inside. See if there's anything of your brother's my officers missed. Maybe that will let us confirm whether or not he was actually here." He knew it was against all protocol. He knew full well how much hot water he could get into for it. He also knew how he'd feel if it was his brother missing. Somehow, that trumped all the regulations right at that moment.

The foursome went inside the small house determined to find something, anything that could give them a clue where Mike had been taken. They noticed the reddish brown tinge stained into parts of the wooden dining table and gasped.

"Is that...that stain…it ..tell me it can't be…um…" Davy began, looking up to Shug and Micky, his eyes wide with fear. "You don't think he's…"

Micky frowned, shaking his head resolutely. "He's alive and we're going to find him." Taking on the air of his very best 'Sherlock Holmes', Micky began examining everything about the house very closely.

Peter quickly picked up the role of 'Watson', peering over Micky's shoulder. "What have you discovered?"

"Scuff marks on the floor," Micky pointed out along the edge of the area rug the table and chairs sat on. "Help me move this, guys. I want to know what's under it."

After they'd pulled the chairs out away from the table and shifted the table further toward the door, Micky threw back the rug to expose a trapdoor. Micky tugged on it only to find it locked.

"Briggs, go out to the car and get a crowbar. Let's find out what's down there." Stevens said, deciding that shooting out the lock was probably not the best option. "Good eye, young man."

Micky barely acknowledged the compliment as he shifted from one foot to the other anxiously. Mike had to be down there. They had to find him. One look at the faces of his waiting friends told him they all felt the same way.

Briggs ran back in, crowbar in hand, and quickly pried open the lock. The waiting Monkees rushed the trapdoor only to be held back by Stevens. "Let us go down first, kids."

"That's right, guys," Briggs agreed. "You never know what could be down there." Having just heard what all they'd pulled from that well so far, Briggs was afraid they might already be too late. The body count was high and mounting. The only positive so far was that the young man they were searching for hadn't been brought up from there yet. That's definitely not how they wanted to find him.

Reluctantly, the four musicians moved back so that the two officers could descend the narrow stairway, flashlights and guns in hand. After several long and anxious moments, they called up to the four, "He's not here, kids. There's no sign of him."

"What's down there," Davy called back, looking at the other three to see if they were thinking what he was. Seeing that they were all in agreement he began the careful descent, his bandmates following.

"It's just a pantry," Briggs pointed out to them all as the four joined them. "There's no sign he was ever down here."

"We're going to look around anyway , if that's alright." Micky replied, not bothering to point out that the officers had already missed one hidden door. It was possible, he surmised, that there could be another.

"Sure thing, kid," Stevens answered, glancing over at his partner. At least that would keep the four occupied a bit longer while they ugly business outside concluded. Maybe they could keep them away from the worst of it, if nothing else. "You guys take your time. We're going to head back up and look around there a little more. Just give a yell if you find anything. Right?"

"Sure thing," Micky agreed easily, already peering closely at his surroundings.

Shug was carefully inspecting the walls, looking for any indications that there might be a hidden door or panel somewhere. "There's got to be something." She muttered.

"Exactly," Davy agreed, looking at the shelves of food to see if anything might have been recently moved. "Maybe a button or lever of some sort."

"Hey guys…maybe…" Peter began, his face pinching slightly in the effort to express the idea in a way that they'd understand without sounding ridiculously optimistic. "Maybe if we just yell, he'll answer and then..and then we'll know which wall, and we can …you know all …"

"All look for the lever together?" Micky finished for him, his face brightening. "Peter, that's brilliant!"

Shug kissed Peter soundly before beginning to call out, "MIKE! MICHAEL, CAN YOU HEAR US?"

They all waited, none daring to breathe, listening for even the faintest reply. Shug cried out loudly in anger and frustration when no answer came.

"Dammit, where is he?" she hissed. She turned her furious gaze on each of her friends, demanding an answer she knew none of them had. Seeing the matching looks of desperation and fear in each of their eyes, her gaze dropped to the floor, her eyes filling with tears. "I thought sure he'd be here." she said, struggling to control the hopeless feeling growing inside her.

Peter stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly and stroking her hair as she broke down. "Come on, Shug," he whispered softly. "Let's go home."

On the other side of the wall, the lone figure still handcuffed to the hospital bed struggled to reply. Tears sprang to his eyes as he fought to make any sound at all, his throat raw from screaming in agony and the swelling that still made it so hard to breathe. He continued until he gasped for every staccato breath, sobbing as the voices on the other side of the wall faded to silence.


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter 9. Help That Never Seems To Come _

In the silence, Mike pulled himself together and considered his options. It seemed the would-be rescue party had left, so that meant it was up to him to rescue himself. In the time that seemed to drag on since the familiar seeming voices faded away, he pulled again and again against the cuffs, slowly coating and lubricating them with the blood they drew from his own wrists until finally, at long last, his hands slipped through. By then his entire body was covered in ice cold sweat and his breathing came in short, painful gasps, and yet he knew he couldn't stop. Not if he wanted a chance to escape.

_You have to do this,_ he reminded himself whenever he faltered. _She's going to kill you if you don't. Maybe not right away. Maybe she'll just keep on making you wish she'd just get it over with first_.

The thought of her with her hands on him again made him feel sicker than any of his injuries did. He was pretty sure he'd could scrub himself raw and still not be rid of that feeling. He tried pushing himself up into a sitting position, but the movement caused the room to tilt and spin wildly. His stomach lurched and he only just managed to lean over the side of the bed before it revolted completely, leaving him with the foul, sour taste of bile in his mouth and a headache so bad he thought he might pass out right there.

_No_, he ordered himself sternly, blinking away the blackness that threatened. _You can't. Not yet. If you do, she'll lock you up again. Move!_

He still couldn't feel his legs. He couldn't feel them. He couldn't move them. And the pain that shot through is back and hips at even attempting made him cry out silently, though this time he was grateful at being unable to make a sound. If she was back. If she heard him. That thought prodded him onward. He dragged himself weakly from the bed, sobbing breathlessly as his broken body hit the floor, the room spinning and lurching violently, his stomach threatening once again to do the same.

_Now what?_ That voice that had taunted him since he'd first awakened asked now.

Mike ignored it, pushing himself to his stomach, partly in case his stomach let go again, and partly to make movement easier. He began crawling, using his elbows to dig in and drag himself forward.

_faster soldier!_ An authoritarian voice in his head urged him onward.

The shivering was now full blown shaking, his entire body wracked with pain with each tiny motion, and yet he continued, inch by excruciating inch until he could no longer breathe at all. He knew he couldn't go much further. He looked around a moment before spotting a small space between the freestanding wardrobe. Desperately he forced himself into that space, crying out silently again as he painfully wedged himself in and then reached forward, dragging his legs in as well, folding himself up into it, so that he was effectively concealed from sight.

_Just for a minute,_ he promised himself, knowing there was still a chance he might be found, no matter how well hidden he was. _One minute…_

The thought barely registered as the blackness swooped in, claiming him at last.

Kaitlyn slowed as she approached her home, noting the police cars surrounding it. Turning off the engine, she allowed herself to coast silently back down the hill a short ways until she reached the mouth of an old hidden dirt road. She coasted the car into the brush, then exited, concealing it carefully there before moving on, a satchel in one hand and a beautiful blonde twelve string guitar in the other. The sun had long since set when at last she reached her destination, a heavy, well concealed wooden door at the base of a very large, very old oak. She set her burdens aside and tugged mightily at it, shouldering it's weight as she set first the guitar, then the satchel within, then eased it silently closed behind her, making certain that no sound dared echo through the forest and alert the officers that she and her lover were there.

"Michael," she called out as she came down the hall. "I'm home."

Kaitlyn opened the door to the room and froze. A slick pool of blood congealed beside the bed only inches from where his empty stomach had still revolted. "Michael?" she called. How had they found him? She wondered. Moving to the wall, she tilted a picture frame slightly to the right and pulling the lever concealed behind it that allowed the pantry shelf to swing into the room. She looked up spotting the open trap door. Hastily pushing the shelf back into place, she looked around again. They can't have gotten far, she knew. Not when the news was still reporting he hadn't been found yet. The ambulance that waited with the police cars suggested that they still hoped to find him alive here, as well.

"Michael," she called again, noticing the bloodstained handcuffs. She turned slowly, looking around the room for what might be out of place. She stormed toward the freestanding wardrobe. "That was a very foolish thing to do, Michael. Now I have to bandage your wrists, too?" She paused, waiting to see if he'd answer her. "They must hurt. Come out and let me have a look at them." Still nothing. "Come out now and I'll go easy on you, Michael. Don't make me drag you out. I'll have to make it hurt much worse if you do. You don't want to do that."

Nothing. Not even a hint of movement.

"Alright, Michael. Such a shame, though. You'll never get your voice back at this rate." Kaitlyn spat, her eyes narrowing. She walked around to the side of the wardrobe and paused. "Last chance, Michael. Come on out and I'll go much easier on you."

She shook the large wooden behemoth, then stomped her foot, narrowly missing Michael's fingers as a hand flopped out of his hiding place, before rounding the wardrobe and flinging the door open. Finding it empty, she turned to survey the rest of the room. "Michael, you need to stop play…." She stopped as the voices came from the other side of the wall.

"I guess they left," one very deep male voice said. " I left them down here looking for a hidden latch or something like that. They seemed convinced he had to be down here somewhere."

"Alright, well, I'll just call them when I get back to the station." The voice of an older sounding man replied. "If they found anything, we'll need to know about it. I want a guard posted outside the front door, and one over by that damned well. When she comes back, I want her, do you understand?"

"yes sir," the first voice replied smartly.

The second faded as they mounted the steps back up into the house, telling the guard that he was going to ask the boys where else she might have gone.

Kaitlyn waited, barely managing to contain her fury, until the voices had faded completely. "NOOO," she screamed. "He's MINE! Those BASTARDS!" She went on and on, screaming and ranting, as she picked up the guitar and smashed it against the wardrobe. She began throwing things around the room, continuing until the she reached the lamp, throwing it against the wall by the wardrobe, then howling when it went out.

"They want war." She said after several long moments there in the darkness. "They've got it. Nobody takes what's mine and lives." She hurried back the way she'd come, pushing open the heavy door and sneaking off into the night.

The boys had ridden in white knuckled silence as Shug insisted on driving them home. Once there, she stormed into the Pad and up the stairwell, tersely announcing, "Need a shower." Peter exchanged looks with the others, then followed up her the stairs, suspecting she'd need him.

From outside the bathroom door, he could hear the sounds of the water almost but not quite hiding her sobs. Tapping lightly on the door, Peter called out, "Shug?" He waited for an answer, though he didn't really expect one. When the sobbing continued, he tried the handle. Surprised to find it unlocked, he stepped inside. She sat curled into a ball, crying helplessly as the water beat down upon her. Hesitating for only a moment, Peter disrobed and stepped in, seating himself beside her in the tub, and drew her into his arms, smoothing her hair and making soft soothing sounds in an effort to comfort her, though he felt as if his own heart were breaking as well.

"Shhh," he whispered, places soft kisses along her temple. "don't, Shug. Don't give up. We'll find him. I promise, we'll find him." He had to believe that. He couldn't accept that his friend was gone any more than she could.

Shug turned into his embrace, still crying, her softness pressed into him, her hips flush against him. Peter felt his arousal growing in spite of the situation and silently chastised himself. What kind of jerk gets hard while comforting his distraught girlfriend?

_The kind sitting stark naked in a bathtub with her warm, soft, wet body pressing all against him_, his mind answered, causing him to blush. He kissed her once more upon the temple, surprised when she raised her eyes to meet his closing then as her lips met his, needing to be distracted from everything happening, if only for a few moments.

His hands make their way down her back as she rose up onto her knees, pressing herself fully against him a moment before straddling him.

"I need you, Pete," she pleaded softly. "Please. It hurts."

Peter wrapped his arms around her, kissing her slowly and tenderly at first, then with increasing passion. He placed his hands upon her narrow waist, guiding her onto him carefully before allowing them to slide around her again, holding her tightly, letting her take whatever she needed from him.

Shug began to rock her hips slowly at first, riding him gently. Peter shifted slightly, angling his hips so that her clit was brushed with each movement. A breathy moan escaped her as she picked up the pace, lowering her head onto his shoulder. "Oh, fuck, Pete…I need more…"

Peter held her ass in his hands and angled his hips further, moving so that not only was her clit brushed, but also so that he stroked her g-spot with each thrust as well. Her moans grew louder, his mouth capturing them, savoring them as if they had a flavor of their own. He picked up the pace gradually, smiling as he continued kissing her, her moans giving way to screams as she neared orgasm. Peter could feel her tightening her inner muscles and gasped. "Shug, I'm going to…"he tried to warn her, only to feel her lips pressed to his again, her muscles tightening further, her hips driving him insistently onward. They came together, holding onto one another as if each feared the other might disappear the moment they let go. Only when they'd caught their breath, did they stand together, still clinging to one another, the water washing away the sweat and tears as they wept together, both for what they'd found, and for what was still tragically lost.

Davy flung himself on the couch. "We need to go back there. He has to be there somewhere."

"I know." Micky agreed. "I'm just not sure where else to look."

"I thought sure we'd find him when you found that trap door." Davy grumbled, throwing a pillow across the room. "She can't have taken him too far hurt like they said, can she?"

Micky shook his head. "I still think we missed something in that pantry. She's got to have him down there somewhere. We just needed to find a lever or switch or something. I bet he was right there."

"We called for him." Davy reminded Micky as if he could possibly have forgotten. "If he was there, don't you think he'd have answered?"

"Unless," Micky replied after a moment, his eyes taking on that half wild look they got when he became excited. "What if he couldn't answer? What if we he heard us, but couldn't answer."

Davy jumped up, growing excited as well. "What are we waiting for? We have to go back!"

"I'll go get…" Micky began, when the sound of Shug's cries reached them. "On second thought, maybe we'll just leave a note."

Davy nodded, writing one out quickly, then hurrying for the door as Micky grabbed his keys and following just a step behind him.

They'd only been gone a few minutes when the phone began to ring.

"Micky….Davy…" Peter called from upstairs. "Can one of you answer that?"

After several more rings, peter dashed down the stairs clad only in a towel, with a similarly dressed Shug following in his wake. Shug reached for the phone as she spied the note, holding it up for Peter to read. "Bet they forgot somethin'?"

"Yeah…like us, maybe?" Peter sighed, watching as Shug answered the phone, then froze. Wide eyed, she angled the receiver so that he could hear as well.

"…wasn't too upset about your little visit, given that I paid you one as well, but you took something that wasn't yours to take," the voice on the other end said flatly. "That was really not smart, Sugar. You know how I feel about that. I'll make it easy on you. Put him on the porch and I won't come in. We'll go on with our lives and leave you to yours. Otherwise, just remember you chose this ending, not me." There was a click and the line went dead.

"Wait, she's coming here?" Peter's voice rose almost an entire octave as the memory of the well hit him.

"She thinks we took Michael," Shug said, her brow furrowed. "He's got away." She looked up at Peter hopefully. "He can't have been hurt as bad as them boys said if he got away from her, right? We just have to wait by the phone. Someone'll be calling to tell us where he is any time now."

"Shug, she's coming here," Peter repeated, panic rising at the thought. "It won't help if nobody's alive when they call." He reached out and took her hand, heading for the stairs. "come on, we have to hide."

A knock at the door followed by a loud report announced Kaitlyn's arrival as the door was blown off of its hinges. They were already too late.


End file.
